


Cosmic Cock-up

by LostinFic



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:22:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1347319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostinFic/pseuds/LostinFic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little something sweet and quietly sexy (as someone nicely described it on Tumblr) and then it becomes a little something smutty and angsty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

David feels her belly rumble, her laughter like waves rocking his head. It’s lovely, hearing Billie laugh, basking in the light of the bright afternoon sun, some folk band playing in the background. It’s the little things, he thinks as he contemplates how his dark frame glasses look next to her mint green coffee cup, both resting on an script used as a makeshift coaster. He likes that, the same way she likes his muddy trainers next to her wellingtons by the front door from their earlier walk or the fact that she didn’t have to explain that joke about Ood ears.

They’re slouched down on the floor like a couple of cats, her shoulders against the sofa and her legs bent at the knees, David’s head resting on her tummy. Despite their best efforts to end their affair they always find themselves in physical contact one way or another. Even more so when they are on their own.

He’s at her house for a good reason, he’s sure of it, although he can’t quite remember what it is. It certainly isn’t to have her laugh at his choice of clothing (what’s wrong with a Tony the tiger t-shirt?). He doesn’t mind her mocking him though because in a few seconds she will kiss his forehead to apologize. She will have to bend down to do it and for a while he will be squished between her belly, her breasts and her lips and it will be fantastic.

For a tiny, heavenly moment, he’s wrapped in Billie Piper.

When her lips and her warmth leave his skin, he sighs sadly but her hand delves in his brown locks bringing a smile back to his mouth. His eyelids grow heavy. Neither of them can remember the last time the world around them was so quiet and peaceful.

He picks up her hand from where it’s resting on the shaggy white carpet and brings it to his lips and kisses it, lingering on. Her other hand stops massaging his scalp when their eyes meet. He holds her gaze and there’s something momentous in that look, enough to send a shiver down her spine and make her look away. Her eyes land on their joined hands now resting on his chest.

“You know, sometimes I think they switched our hands,” she says.  
“What?”  
“Yeah, my fingers are all sort of pudgy, like sausages, and yours are long and thin and elegant."  
"Elegant?!"  
"It should be the other way around, is all I'm saying.”  
“So let me get this straight, you think that at some point, presumably while we were still in the womb, regardless of the age gap of course, some superior being decided to put my hands on your arms and your hands on my arms?” She laughs as he goes on, gesticulating with her hand still in his, “like some sort of cosmic cock-up or was this done on purpose, an alien experiment perhaps. Were you probed?”  
“Oh shut up.”

“I like your pudgy fingers,” he comments once they stop laughing.

He puts the tip of her index finger between his lips and teeth, keeping it there for a second too long. Just long enough for a familiar spark to ignite deep within her and suddenly their position, sprawled out on the floor, entangled, doesn’t seem quite so innocent. Their eyes meet again, his now a shade darker. His other hand slips under her maxi dress, ghosting along the smooth skin of her calf before covering her ankle. 

“And I like your feminine hands,” she replies in an effort to lighten the mood.  
“Oi, I have very manly hands, me! Look at all the hair,” he says in mock-indignation, “as for the length of my fingers, never heard you complain about that, quite the opposite in fact,” he adds with an eloquent wiggle of his eyebrows.

She knows exactly what he’s referring to and the spark grows as she remembers the gorgeous things these fingers could do to her. He feels the change in her body as her stomach rises more rapidly with every breath and her face turns pink.

“You know what that means though, if you’re right?” he says after a moment of heavy silence.  
“No, what?”  
“Well, it means you found your hand and I found mine…” David says, his voice anything but lighthearted.  
And what had just been a meaningless observation, meant to steer the conversation away from topics too serious, suddenly becomes an unsettling symbol of their relationship.

Because it seems about right that she has a part of him attached to herself. Permanently. Binding them.

“Dave,” and it sounds like her throat has turned to sandpaper.  
“uhm?”  
“I…” she inhales sharply as her throat seems to constrict, “…nevermind.”  
He strains his neck to keep his eyes on her, dark and expectant. She doesn’t waver under his stare, hoping he will get it without her having to actually say it.  
“I know,” he says after a while, his hand squeezing hers.


	2. Chapter 2

With a sigh, David sits up, removing his body completely from hers. He rolls his shoulders and neck, stretches his arms above his head and then moves to rest his back on the other end of the sofa. The space between them feels unnatural, forced.

The room seems colder now that the sunlight is fading.

“Tea?” Billie asks, springing up on her feet and skittering off to the kitchen before he can reply.

Once in the other room, she leans on the granite counter and sighs deeply, rubbing her hands up and down her face.

“When’s he coming back?” David asks as he enters the kitchen, startling her.

“Er, tomorrow night, I think… or Monday.”

He looks at her with concern but he doesn’t ask, busying himself with filling the kettle instead. He turns his back to her and she wants to hug him from behind and rest her cheek on his shoulder blade while they wait for the water to boil. Instead, she ties her hair up, stifling a yawn in the crook of her elbow as she does so.

“Tired?”

She shrugs. She’s knackered but she wouldn’t have known it a few minutes ago, now it’s like all the energy has drained from her body. She doesn’t say so, in case it makes David decide to leave.

“I am,” he says.

“You want to take a kip?” Billie offers.

“With you?”

She’s taken aback, it’s not what she had in mind.

“Sure,” she replies anyway, “why not?”

A question neither of them is keen to answer.

 

He unplugs the kettle and follows her in silence down the hall, to the guest bedroom. The room is bathed in the bright orange light of the last sunrays and it seems to have been used as an office lately. Billie picks up the books and papers lying around, mentally adding changing the sheets to tomorrow’s chores list.

He takes off his jeans, looking up at her to make sure it’s alright before pushing them off completely. He keeps on his faux-vintage Frosted Flakes t-shirt, prompting an eye roll from Billie.

“You want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?” she asks as she slips between the dove grey sheets.

“Big one.”

He settles easily behind her, one arm under her neck. He’ll have pins and needles in his limb but it’s worth it. She expects the other arm to cover her waist but instead she feels his fingers comb slowly through her hair, lightly brushing her neck and shoulder at he does so. When she makes a noise like a purr, he chuckles softly. The pleasant sensation quickly lulls her to sleep.

He’s slept here before but never with her in the bed. They’ve had long, drunken discussions in the middle of the night on that bed but they’ve drawn the line at sleeping together in it. Every line they draw, they cross eventually, walking right on the edge until they take it one step too far.

They are each other’s urge to fall.

He cuddles closer, holding on to her, until sleep overtakes him.

Later, Billie emerges slowly from sleep to a room submerged in darkness, except for a slice of light falling across the bed coming in through the slightly opened door. It’s impossibly hot and she groggily kicks the sheets off her body. She feels rested but restless. She writhes and squirms, gripping her pillow and pressing her thighs together. A lascivious energy courses through her veins. All that talk about David’s hands, the meaningful looks, the proximity… She makes a strange little noise in the back of her throat, half needy, half frustrated. The idea of escaping to the bathroom to find relief crosses her mind.

She turns over towards David and frankly it doesn’t help. It’s his adorable messy hair and the fact that his t-shirt has ridden up in his sleep, revealing sharp hip bones and long fingers splayed on his abdomen. That and it’s obvious that he’s in the same predicament as she is. Her movements wake him up and in his hazy state he rolls on his side, seeking her. He mutters her name as his hands grab her blindly, tugging her closer. The second his hardness brushes against her thigh, his eyes fly open.

“Sorry! I, er, have a bit of a situation here,” he mumbles.

He moves away from her but she moves forward.

“Me too,” she replies in a husky voice, feeling her self-control slipping between her fingers.

Oh, he’s fully awake now and there’s a hunger in his eyes that would scare her if she didn’t know it is mirrored in her own

But they can’t.

“We could always…” he begins.

“What?”

“Keep our hands to ourselves, I suppose.”

She watches as David tentatively palms himself through his pants, his lips pressed together to avoid groaning inelegantly. She licks her lips, faltering briefly before pulling her dress up her legs.

The blush on her cheeks spreads to her neck and chest as her hand slides between her thighs. Somehow this feels more private than anything they’ve ever done before. Still, it’s more exciting than it is awkward. The thrill of something new, the thrill of something forbidden. David’s eyes sparkle as he pulls his underwear down and Billie quickly becomes mesmerized by his slender fingers around his manhood and the fluid movement of his hand. She opens her legs wider, pushing aside her sheer knickers for more direct contact and a distinct wet noise joins the echo of their moans.

He is equally entranced when she slips a hand down the front of her dress, kneading, pinching and pulling, her back arching off the bed wantonly.

“Show me,” he demands, voice rough with desire.

She reluctantly stops touching herself to slide the straps off her arms. She struggles to push the dress down her torso and finally decides to discard it entirely. Her efforts are rewarded by a look of raw lust from David.

“Fuck, this is torture,” but his hand speeds up all the same and beads of sweat gather on his brow.

She couldn’t agree more as she tries to push her fingers deeper in, knowing David could easily reach that spot. And with that thought,she whimpers.

She needs more.

“Remember that time, in the limo, after the NTAs?” David says with a cocky grin.

“How could I forget,” she replies, smiling knowingly at her oldest accomplice.

Their eyes meet and they momentarily get lost in each other’s wistful gaze. She moves closer, dangerously close, enough to feel his forearm and hand moving up and down, spurring her on.

“I miss you,” she whispers.

“Desperately?”

“Yeah.”

His free hand grabs the back of her neck, pulling at the fine hair there, bringing her forehead to his. Their ragged breaths meet in the maddeningly small space between their mouths and when he licks his lips she tastes it on her own.

As memories of that night flash before her eyes, she feels a new surge of desire course through her body. She increases the pressure between her legs. Souvenirs of steamy encounters fill her mind, brought on by the familiar smell of their combined sweat and sex that now permeates the air.

She lets go of her breast to reach for his hand behind her head, twining their fingers on her neck, longing for more contact.

“Remember the first time? In Julie’s bathroom?” she pants.

His only answer is a deep growl. She recognizes that look on his face, eyebrows knit together and slack jaw.

“Wait for me,” she pleads, when she feels his grip on her hand tighten painfully, “I’m close.”

He makes a supreme effort to slow down until he feels her nails dig in his skin. Her mouth opens in a silent O and her whole body shivers but her eyes never leave his.

His own pleasure follows immediately, splattering his t-shirt and her stomach. They hold each other’s gaze, breathless and somewhat shocked by what they’ve just done.

After a few long seconds of silence, Billie looks down and bursts out laughing.

“What? What is it?”

“You just gave Tony the tiger a facial.”

David looks down too.

“Well, there goes my childhood!”

He laughs, a sort of lazy, exhausted laugh.

When he rolls over on his back, she follows, resting her head on his heaving chest, one arm draped loosely across his waist and the cooling wetness of her knickers on his thigh. He slips a finger under her chin to tilt her head back and kiss her forehead. He hesitates before peppering more kisses on her cheeks, her temples and the tip of her nose. She smiles at him despite the lump in her throat. His thumb caresses her lips then skims her jaw, finally moving to rest on her pulse point.

“Bills, I…” and he chokes on his own words.

“I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

She’s eating a mango of all things. When she said she was hungry and skittered off to the kitchen, still just in her panties, he thought she’d come back with a bag of crisps or some custard creams. But here she is, sitting cross-legged on the bed, in the soft glow of the paper lamp, humming and giggling as she snacks on the exotic fruit. Judging by the look on her face, it’s delicious. It’s quite a juicy one too and every so often her tongue darts out to catch drops on her lips. Some of it has even dribbled down her chin and fallen onto the bed sheet loosely draped around her torso.

She cuts another slice of the fruit and offers it to him. He can’t resist taking it with his mouth, his own tongue snaking out to lick the tip of her fingers. Trying to pass it off as a joke, he laughs, his mouth full of juicy mango. Except that with what just happened, it’s hard to ignore the effect this physical contact has on both of them. She smirks and feeds him another slice which he gobbles up, a loud slurping noise briefly filling the room. This time, his tongue licks her digits more purposefully, mischievous eyes meeting hers. The last piece of mango disappears between her lips and she sucks thoroughly on her sticky fingers.

“Tease.”

She offers him the other hand, running her fingers along his pouty lower lip, spreading the exotic taste. He catches the tips between his teeth but releases them too soon. His eyes focus on her mouth as he props himself up on his elbows. She moves closer, uncertain. Closing the space between them, she presses her lips to his in a quick but spine-tingling kiss. When she backs off, he chases her breath, clutching her hair to deepen the kiss. In her surprise, she knocks the plate and knife off the bed.

Mumbling some excuse, she jumps to her feet, picks up the dishes and disappears from the room, her heart racing.

David falls back on the bed with a grunt.

“Don’t even think about it,” he says in the direction of the erection forming in his boxers.

When she comes back in the room, she stops still in the doorway, David is putting his jeans back on.

“I’ve gotta go.”  
He doesn’t spare her so much as a glance.  
“Don’t do this, not again,” she says, trying to keep her voice strong.  
“Where’s my bloody jumper?” he asks after removing his cum stained t-shirt.  
“It’s not going to work, you know.”  
He puts on his socks, still ignoring her.  
“You’ll avoid me for weeks, play the dedicated boyfriend, overcompensating, and next time we see each other, you’ll fuck me against a wall in some back alley.”  
“And you’ll be begging for it!” he retorts in a rare outburst of anger.  
They glower at each other, standing still by the bed, fists balled tightly. His chest rises as he takes in a deep breath through clenched teeth. When he exhales, it’s more like a sigh.

With a defeated look on his face, he flops down in the armchair by the bed.

She turns her back to him, hating the angry tears threatening to spill from her eyes but he hears her sniff. Gently, he pulls on her wrist. She resists, he insists, she abdicates.

The circles he rubs on her back, over the bed sheet, soothe her and she rests her cheek in the crook of his shoulder, nose pressed against his neck, taking in his familiar scent. She can see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows back all the things he wishes he could tell her in moments like these. Instead, his arms wrap around her, until he’s holding her as close as humanly possible, crushing her body to his. His nose digs in her hair, breathing her essence, as if he’s been starved of oxygen. She clutches him just as close, arms around his torso, her nails digging in his shoulder blades.  
They hold on to each other and the proximity kindles their desire. His hands drift, one to her ribs just below her breast, the other too low on her back, walking on the edge again. And they’re so very good at that, technically not doing anything wrong but there are no such things as technicalities when it comes to feelings and he can’t deny that his heart is beating so hard against his ribcage, it’s like it’s trying to get out and reach hers. And the truth is, if someone were to walk in on them, they wouldn’t find anything remotely chaste about this hug.

She moves against him, barely, just a little friction, a hand travelling down his sides, a slight rotation of the hips and as with everything she does, it’s alluring, sensual.  
“We really shouldn’t,” David says, but his heart is not really into it.  
“We could go out for dinner like we said we would, get those greasy fish and chips you like on Hopskins street,” Billie suggests but her mouth is already caressing his collarbone, “out it public, there are fewer temptations.”  
“Like that ever stopped us,” he replies.  
His hand moves lower, over the curve of her bum to the cushy flesh of her thigh.  
“Fuck, you’re right.”

Mustering up all her strength, Billie disentangles herself and stands up. As soon as she is on her two feet, he grabs her waist and she tumbles back onto his laps. A low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating against her back, evidence of the fight raging within him. He nips at the tender skin between her shoulder and neck and she revels in the feel of his teeth. She deserves nothing less, nothing gentler.

“What you said earlier, it’s true, I can’t be Mr nice guy all the time,” he says on her skin, his voice hitting that sultry tone that lights her fire.  
“You need this,” she declares, writhing in his laps for emphasis.

He tears the bed sheet away from her and then his hands are squeezing her breasts. She encourages him, arching her back and holding his hands there, craving bruises, blue fingerprints aligned on her chest like badges of dishonour.

His hands travel lower, pressing along the curve of her waist, then down her legs to her knees and up again. His touch is heavy, possessive. He grasps her inner thighs, spreading her legs, making her feel exposed, empty, vulnerable. His fingers trace mazes on the sensitive skin as he whispers “You need it too” before sucking on her earlobe.  
“Isn’t it obvious?”  
“Tell me,” and there’s a glimpse of desperation in that command.  
He needs to know they are even in this game of lust and deception. Her hesitation fills him with dread.  
“Okay, yes, I need it… I need you, I want you for my own.”

Her surrender is rewarded by a long finger finally sliding in her, the flimsy fabric of her underwear not standing a chance against David’s determination.

“Kiss me.”

As soon as she’s pronounced the words, his mouth captures hers, in a long overdue kiss that’s more like devouring. The angle of her neck is uncomfortable but that doesn’t deter her. They kiss endlessly, even when another finger enters her and she grinds down shamelessly, they gasp in each other’s mouth but never part. In their kiss, he tastes her pleasure. A wave of bliss rises in her, surging from his talented fingers.

“Not like that.”

She turns around and straddles him. Her fingers work on his jeans, tugging them out of the way, just enough to sink down on him. There’s no finesse, no delaying, just giving him what he needs, what she craves, hard and fast, no time to think.

“Fuck!”

His head falls to her shoulder, his groans hot on her skin. His hands and mouth greedily roam her body, wanting to touch it and taste it all at once, to sear this moment in his mind through all his senses. He leans back and gapes at her undulating hips and swaying breasts, at the joy on her face as she takes her pleasure from him.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

She grins and he can’t resist catching her teasing tongue. One hand grabs the back of her neck, the other guides her hips. He starts thrusting upwards, eliciting a symphony of moans from both of them. It turns into something raw and messy and all-consuming. They ache to fall over the edge. And when it happens, they cling to each other.

She stays in his arms, their heaving chests pressed together, her vision obscured by his hair as he lazily nuzzles her neck.

“I’d fancy those fish and chips, now.”

The late August night is warm enough that they only need a sweater to go out but cool enough that she can wear a scarf. They walk down a dark and narrow street, her nose buried in the grey pashmina to block the stink of urine which is soon replaced by the greasy fragrance of the chippy. David’s cap is low on his forehead, almost reaching his glasses, as he orders their food and two cans of cider through a window. Despite its dingy appearance, the anonymous restaurant is the local’s best kept secret and in his haste to eat their delicious chips, David burns his fingers.

“Kiss it better?”

They keep walking until they reach the Thames, passing by a group of loud smokers gathered around the entrance of a pub and teenagers enjoying their last nights of freedom. There’s a contagious excitement in the air, it’s a night to laugh out loud and run away. She loops her arm through his and he drops a kiss on top of her head, matching smiles brightening up their faces.

Billie and David sit on a low stone wall, shoulder to shoulder, feet dangling above the river. The string of lights above their heads makes the water glisten with every ripple. They eat in companionable silence, eyes lost in the city line, shining brighter than the stars above. It feels normal, nice, like those quieter days on set when they could simply sit down, leaning on each other, while the rest of the cast and crew bustled around them.

She lights up a cigarette while he eats the rest of her food, the flame briefly illuminating her features, making her eyes glow amber. When she exhales the smoke away from him, the wind brings it back. It smells like melancholy. In moments like these, he thinks maybe it’s too late for them, their time has passed, but then she twines her fingers with his and it feels like an infinity of possibilities.


End file.
